


color in your heart

by corellians_only



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Holiday Fic Exchange, Javi deserves all the good things, Kissing, Pedro's 12 Days of Christmas, gender neutral reader, very very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28366395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corellians_only/pseuds/corellians_only
Summary: javier's pretty when he drives. he's pretty all the time, really.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	color in your heart

Javier’s gaze drips espresso and amber, golden tones swaying in the light as he diverts his attention away from the road to catch your eye. They’re exposed just this once, revealed to you as sunlight trickles through the glass. Trademark yellow aviators rest in-between his buttons and his skin, carving out a space in his chest. It’s almost strange how such an object seems so intimately acquainted with his person — his hands, his heartbeat, the very lens by which he sees the world.

Noting the heft of his gaze, you attempt to pin it down. Javier will give himself to everything, and you are no exception. Yet in this truism, you know, there haunts a bedeviling paradox. Everything to everything means he is never truly here, it as almost though he can bi-locate, or even transcend the regular human confines of reality entirely, intimately fixating on past, present, and future within a single heartbeat.

And being such a man of transient temporality, Javi permits a soft laugh to escape, the left side of his mouth stretching upwards in a grin. Muscles wax and wane in effort, their aching tendons bruised but not wholly unfamiliar with the sensation. “You’ve got —“ the words shatter even before they form, unspoken fragments cracking, then dissipating into the sun-soaked sky. Jade tinges the atmosphere, too, and a heady azure that’s almost more intoxicating than the sunshine.

intricate glories of biology & physics pale in comparison to the seraphic joy that steals into your heart — irreverent and bungling — at the sight of this man choosing the present over another one of his alternative visions. Maybe it’s the glasses, you think. Maybe it’s because the glasses rest heavy on his skin (is your cheek against his chest the same kind of weight?) and not on the bridge of his nose.

He speaks away your query in lines and dashes, laughter peeking through the seams of his words. it’s just a little bit chocolate, baby. And you laugh, breaking through barriers of plastic and impetuous strains of emotion as you swipe at the stain with your thumb. A smile plays about your lips and you grace him with a side glance, leaning into expressions of time that the two of you share.

Javier’s supposed to be driving, after all, traversing some road outside the city. _Vamos al campesino,_ he had said seriously, shucking on that denim jacket of his at the office when you met him there after your own work had finished for the day. Javi had tucked the badge, and the gun, into his jeans and shuffled a few loose papers into his pocket — the one not protecting his lighter and cigarettes, the stuff that jump-starts his blood to flow again (a strange relationship of soothing pressure; acquired imitations of existence).

You had not bothered to ask why; you surrendered your right to know why long ago. the surrender — and resurrection — of wonder began & ended the first time you had peeled off your clothes and sank to your knees in worship of this man who is so intimidatingly gorgeous in his tumbled imperfection — and he, for his part; he had let his disparate parts piece themselves together under your steady touch and shaky gasps. Javi had taken your gift in crashes and bangs and small acts of courage and returned it the best he could, letting you swim with him in sheets and hide his face in-between your legs. The sky behind your eyelids fades in-between glittering chrome and a gold more deep than sunniest day, then. Or sometimes it’s how days like today feel — viscous and insatiable, with the vibrant colors mitigating the weight of being alive in the same way that he kisses away bruises of everyday life on your soul. 

But this is the present, after all, and not the past. And in the present you’re unwrapping moments with him — unwrapping them as they come, the two of you, here, in his old car. and right now the sunlight burns away the fog obscuring his heart’s vision and he leans over to press a kiss to your chapped lips. Oh, you don’t want him to stop after he pulls away (your lips burn vermillion, now, with the sacred heat of his own lingering) but he’s driving, driving, driving.

Javi turns to smile at you fully and you jolt at the way he seeps into you. “I got it,” he crows, referring to the chocolate. “Since you couldn’t.” The wink he sends your way makes you weak, too, a flashpoint of comforting desire. It’s all-so-very Javier, all so very calculated in execution even as his affection flows reckless and bountiful. He cannot help the way he loves, try as he might. No, he cannot help the way he glows with a supernatural aura adopted by the shades of sunset.

“Are you sure you got it all?” you tease. A swelling ache rises in your chest the longer you go without his touch; you reach across and place your hand on his thigh, just brushing the edges of his jacket.

“‘Course I am,” Javi replies in a near-whisper, finally pulling into to some sort of roadblock run by local police. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Javier twists his body to meet yours. “But if you don’t have confidence in my abilities, I can always double check, baby.”

Your reply of _yes please, javier; i think that’s best_ gets lost in his mouth, in his tongue licking you open, in his way he sighs your name with a lilting reverence, his hands cupping your cheeks to bring you closer-closer-closer. it’s your turn to be awash in the light of a golden hour, to be subdued to wholly formed fragments as Javier kisses you soft and slow in his beat-up car. And your hands fist in his unruly hair and your lips part easily for him (they always have) and your soak up his soul in sounds with no true meaning apart from their existence.

“There,” he says, pulling away with a soft kiss to your nose. “I think I got it all, now.” He nudges you and indicates the view just outside the window. “Look, baby. The sun’s setting.”

It is — hazy pinks and oranges and yellows all weeping with a blue afterglow. It feels like him. It feels like home. And that, you suppose, is what it’s all about, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> holiday fic exchange for @/blacksquadron-roguetwo on tumblr! you can find on there at filthybookworm :)


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